


Do it Right

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Community: kink_bingo, Drugs, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that are better when you do them on purpose. Drugs, sometimes. Sex, sometimes as well. Drugged-up sex, though? <i>That needs</i> intention for Frederick to get the most out of it. Written for kink_bingo's gift basket challenge, "We Have Ways To Make You Talk", drugs/aphrodisiacs square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do it Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingenius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenius/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tale of a Modern Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/22260) by ingenius. 



> This is an original fic remix/fanfic for the one-shot fic above. This fic directly relates to a scene in the story; parts of it won't make as much sense if you don't read the original story.

The way he does it is simple: Frederick shows Ashe the injector, two weekends after his first visit to the house that Ashe apparently built for him. The look in Ashe's eyes says he understands implicitly what Frederick is asking permission to do to him; he doesn't hesitate before he nods at that silent question.

Smiling, Frederick brushes a kiss against Ashe's stubbly jaw and slides his free hand around Ashe's waist. Thicker than it was before. In the best way possible, of course, but Frederick's still getting used to Ashe looking and acting like a man instead of a teenage boy.

"In a few weeks," Frederick murmurs, because there are many things that must be done at work with the new dome and it wouldn't be _right_ if Ashe knew when it was coming. Also: he said he trusted Frederick, and Frederick wants to see how far it extends. (Or make sure he knows how far it extends; he already has a good idea of where he thinks the limits of Ashe's trust are.)

"Tease," Ashe says, but the smirk tugging at his lips says that Frederick's response was right on the money.

He really does love it when he's right about this type of thing. Ashe is all growly and pleased and playful; they have a quick and dirty fuck out on the deck in the sun. The sensation of Ashe's cock buried inside Frederick is beginning to feel just as much like coming home as it feels to bury his cock in Ashe.

*

It ends up taking a bit longer than Frederick's original estimate of five weeks. First there's a delay in the training of the squad who'll be joining so they can handle the policing of both domes, and then there's an unexpected _situation_.

Frederick ends up having to miss a weekend with Ashe, spending it instead interrogating a prick from financial who embezzled funds from the sales of land in the new dome. He holds out for an absurd amount of time, but Frederick guessed if he were facing hard labor and possible euthanasia he probably would too. How he thought fifty million credits would go unnoticed, Frederick has no clue, but the guy really is fucking clueless and Frederick is so fucking glad to see the back of him.

The case was harder than anyone thought it would be, so when Frederick asks for another week off in addition to the one week he'd already requested, he gets it. (Not that he couldn't just take it, being the boss's son, but he doesn't like to abuse his authority like that.)

Planning the entire thing out, getting supplies, and making sure the weather will be right takes Frederick a little over twenty-four hours. Just after lunch on his third day off, he shows up at Ashe's door with a gym bag in his right hand and a syringe in his left. He has his thumb on the plunger, fingers on the end of the tube with the middle pressed against his wrist, the naked needle carefully angled neither inward nor outward.

There isn't really any debate over whether he'll ring the bell or just come in. Ashe gave him access, so he can in theory come right in, but Frederick needs this to be face-to-face. There's no question of looking into Ashe's eyes when he shoots the Rush into Ashe's neck. It's _required_.

With his right hand he rings the doorbell. Ashe always looks through the peephole before opening the door--yeah, that would be his chronic paranoia, but given his past career Frederick can understand--and when he pulls it open, there's confusion on his face. "Red, why--"

But Frederick's already moving, dropping the gym bag, dashing to the left. Ashe's eyes go wide and he steps to the side. Frederick is still better-trained than Ashe, though. He reaches with his right hand and pulls Ashe toward him, just enough to drag Ashe off-balance, and jabs the injector into Ashe's neck, quickly depressing the plunger until it bottoms out and removing the needle quickly, throwing the injector back out the door.

Ashe's gorgeous blue eyes go wide for a moment, then his thin lips go from smiling to sliding open in a little groan as his eyes roll back.

It's a damn good thing that Frederick's holding onto him, because the next thing he does is just go boneless. Lean all his weight against Frederick and kind of shiver, making another low noise. The reaction's not from the Rush but from Frederick getting things right. Exactly fucking right.

"Where've you been all my life?" Ashe speaks the words against Frederick's neck, voice half-muffled. Not slurred at all.

Frederick presses his hand into the base of Ashe's hips to grind against Frederick's leg and is rewarded with the knowledge that Ashe's cock is hard as fuck, no doubt straining against whatever tight-ass underwear he's wearing today.

Ashe did ask a question, though, and Frederick's thought of an excellent answer. "Learning how to do this to people."

Perfect answer, given the way Ashe's hips stutter and he wraps his arms around Frederick's shoulders. He makes another of those amazing, wonderful low noises against Frederick's neck, too: icing on the cake. Icing that makes Frederick want to just stop now and enjoy it, push Ashe down against the floor and fuck him and see if he can pinpoint when the Rush starts to take hold.

Maybe he'll do that. Fuck the plan. Maybe he _will_ do that. No, no maybe about it. He doesn't even give a fuck that the door's still open when he pushes Ashe up against the wall and kisses him, demanding.

Of course Ashe wants to give him whatever he wants, even before the Rush kicks in; Ashe kisses back with feeling, humming into the kiss, bracing his hands against the wall and arching against Frederick. It's not a nice kiss, all teeth and hot breath and the sharp smell of Ashe's aftershave.

Frederick breaks the kiss, turning Ashe's head to the side and seeing that little pinprick of blood from the needle all smeared over Ashe's neck. He can't resist leaning down and licking at the half-dried blood, groaning at the taste and digging his fingers into Ashe's hips. If this goes well, he thinks that next he'll see what Ashe thinks of being cut repeatedly again.

Not now, though. Now he bites down hard and gets his knee braced against the wall in time for Ashe's knees to go weak and ends up mouthing Ashe's jaw afterward. He doesn't like the chemical taste of the aftershave, but he does, in that way he's learning that things just kind of happen with Ashe.

"Red," Ashe moans, almost brokenly, but not quite.

Frederick kisses him, chaste but hard, thumb on one side of the neck, forefinger on the other, and webbing pressing gently against Ashe's windpipe. Beneath his fingertips, Ashe's pulse beats quickly, kicking up a gear into wild as Frederick presses a little harder. He waits to let up until he feels Ashe trying to swallow, and pulls his hand away entirely.

This time, when Ashe moans "Red," it's broken, just on the edge of hoarse.

"Going to fuck you," Frederick tells him, and lowers him to the floor. "Do _not_ move."

Ashe's eyes are very, very focused when Frederick pulls away and goes for the injector and his gym bag. He stuffs the injector in the square plastic biohazard box on the top of the bag, sets it aside, and pulls out a pair of cuffs he stole from work. They're same cuffs Ashe had been locked in the last time he was high on Rush. Frederick couldn't have told someone why he'd taken them, except maybe for the driving need that the things that were Frederick-and-Ashe to stay Frederick-and-Ashe. Even after there wasn't properly a Frederick-and-Ashe.

The focused look has shifted into a wide-eyed, hot look and Frederick can't resist pressing another kiss against Ashe's lips as he cuffs Ashe's hands behind his back. He doesn't need to be able to see to do it, and he squeezes both of Ashe's hands, getting a little squeeze in return, before pulling away once more.

He closes the door and digs out his knife, fingers already pulling up the tail of Ashe's tight tank top. The shoulder pieces cut easily--silk blend, of course--and it takes practically no effort to get it off after that. Ashe doesn't wear shoes in the house, thankfully, though his loose shorts are more difficult, what with the zipper and them being Ashe's favorite pair. Frederick abandons the original plan to cut them off and jerks them off instead by stages, until it's just Ashe and sitting there with spread legs and those underwear.

Ashe spends almost as much money on clothes as he does on food, which Frederick doesn't give a fuck about, mostly, though Ashe can be sloppy. But there's a few pairs of underwear, a few shirts, and one pair of jeans--the ones that are the reason Frederick always dresses Ashe for family dinners now--that make Frederick want to do everything, anything it takes to make Ashe make all the wonderful sounds he's so very good at making.

This is probably the number one pair of underwear that kick up that little desire: they're deliciously tailored, dark red spandex for the most part, which is like an invitation to begin with, and have black trim. But that's not the part that is like bait; the part that is like bait is the fact that right where Ashe's cock and balls go, there's spandex mesh with large holes--large enough that the mesh conceals _nothing_.

And the spandex is stretchy enough that even with Ashe sporting an erection his underwear are still in place. He was right on the money earlier, when he thought about Ashe's cock straining against his tight-ass underwear.

Frederick ends up on his stomach on the floor before he's quite conscious of what he's doing, pulling Ashe's hips forward, rubbing his face against Ashe's fantastic package. Ashe hisses in his breath and lets it out in a moan, rocking his hips against the teasing. He's impatient, always. _Always_ , and Frederick loves it.

"Red, that's--"

"Cheating?" Frederick asks, lips against Ashe's shaft.

The only response Ashe gives at first is another moan, but then he puts his legs over Frederick's shoulders, crosses his ankles behind Frederick's head, and forces Frederick's face against his cock.

For a few long moments, Frederick lets Ashe do it. There's no denying that he loves it as much as Ashe does, but that's not what this is about. He digs his fingers into Ashe's thigh. "Stop."

Ashe looks like he might disagree. Long seconds tick by, and he shakes his head, letting his legs fall to the sides and apart once more.

That's all the invitation Frederick needs. He grabs the lube out of his pocket as he mouths the shaft of Ashe's cock through his underwear, following the way it's curved almost too sharply to the side. The taste is delicious, makes him suppress a moan. Damn Ashe; no one else can make Frederick change his plans, entirely wing it, and not regret it one fucking bit. There's nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with taking a minute to pay attention to Ashe's cock straining against spandex.

"Yes," Ashe breathes, low and gravelly, as Frederick hooks his fingers in the top of Ashe's underwear and pulls them down, letting Ashe's cock spring free. Beautiful, but not tonight's entertainment. Not yet. He sneaks his slicked-up right hand between the cheeks of Ashe's ass, rubbing a bit from the back of his hand along the cleft before sliding three fingers inside at once.

He'd told Ashe once that if Ashe had looked the way he did after turning from Ashe Morrison back into Ashe Ellison, he would've fucked Ashe on the first day. If Ashe looked the way he does now, all muscle and capability and self-assurance, Frederick probably would've fucked him as soon as he could get Ashe alone. He imagines it wouldn't have taken more than five, maybe ten minutes.

Ashe moans, head thrashing to the side, barely missing the doorknob on the foyer closet. Frederick moves him over a little and slides his fingers right back into Ashe, who moans again helplessly, hips shifting, asking for more without words.

Frederick gives it a few more thrusts of his fingers--a few more moans, a few more seconds of watching Ashe grow more and more relaxed--and pulls them out. He pulls Ashe's underwear off, too, leaning down to deep throat Ashe's cock. It's only for bare seconds, but Frederick can still feel the way Ashe's cock jumps, taste the precome when he moves back, panting, and crawls up to kneel between Ashe's legs.

He only distantly feels the sand on Ashe's ass where he grips it and under his own knees. Ashe is the main event here, and sliding his cock into Ashe's ass, Frederick realizes that the Rush is already beginning to take effect. Ashe's eyes are a bit more dilated than they normally would be, and from his reactions, Ashe's drowning in the sensations a little rather than merely feeling them.

"Good?" he asks, out of curiosity. Ashe, arms around Frederick's neck, nods. He's not bobble-headed with it, yet, though.

Frederick presses him against the wall. Just a bit, enough to trap him, enough to make Ashe gasp and tighten and—that's wonderful. Amazing. Frederick nips Ashe's ear and begins to fuck him, slowly but steadily, keeping him pinned there against the wall as he does.

The goal isn't to get off, just to tease, and as it goes on, Frederick gets just what he wants. He doesn't vary his pace, and by what he guesses must be twenty minutes after the injection, Ashe groans with every thrust, legs wrapped desperately around Frederick's waist.

It's time, Frederick thinks, and pulls out, kissing Ashe on the cheek and then on the mouth to muffle his unhappy moan. He touches Ashe, rubbing one nipple, giving his cock a few pulls, teasing his hole gently so it's not a pure drop from pleasure, just a gentle come-down. "Shh, shh," he hisses gently as he lifts Ashe and takes him to the kitchen. If Frederick hadn't started ramping up his workouts, he probably wouldn't have been able to manage it, and even as it is, this is about the limit of his strength.

Ashe whimpers when Frederick sets him down backwards in one of the chairs: cool steel with darkly stained wooden panels; they match the table. There's a holotab on the table and a cup of dark liquid that is probably coffee; he'd been sitting here before Frederick arrived, clearly.

In the chair, Ashe squirms, his hands grabbing Frederick's leg. Frederick cups one hand over Ashe's neck and then lets his thumb trail down and press gently against the needle mark.

Twenty-five minutes, he guesses. Might be less for the full effect if Ashe hasn't eaten lunch, too. He nuzzles one side of Ashe's head and rubs his fingers back and forth up the stubble on Ashe's jaw on the other. Ashe pants, not squirming at all now, holding perfectly still like if he moves Frederick will stop.

"I'll never stop," Frederick whispers, not caring if Ashe understands. But the way Ashe leans his face against Frederick's says that he does. Frederick scrapes his nails over Ashe's stubble, and they both gasp at the feel of it.

It's really true: twinky boys weren't and aren't Frederick's type, but Ashe somehow was immediately on Frederick's radar anyway. Probably because Frederick unconsciously realized that there was this, this amazingly handsome _man_ who was equally capable of submitting to Frederick as he was of nailing Frederick good and hard.

A minute or so of teasing later, Frederick says, "Tell me how it feels."

He knows that the gasp Ashe gives isn't for the tone he uses, but the words. Same ones from the interrogation room. After the gasp, Ashe laughs, shaking his head, and Frederick laughs a little with him.

As the laughter trails off and Frederick straightens so that he's towering over Ashe, Ashe says, "I'm turned on _maybe_ about as much as you'd believe."

The snark makes Frederick grin. "And?"

Ashe breathes out, long and low, as Frederick's fingers trace the shells of his ears. "And my skin's... like your fingers are lighting me on _fire_. Like everywhere you touch _melts_ and I just--"

Frederick's fingers press against the pulse points on Ashe's neck. "Keep going," he murmurs, letting up after Ashe's words stutter to a stop.

"And I just _want_ to let you fuck me, like before, against the wall, the wall was cold and I was caught between hot and cold and it was _amazing_ , but I _know_ that's not the plan."

"Good boy," Frederick whispers, and pulls Ashe into that awkward standing position from the interrogation. The one with Frederick behind him, Ashe leaning back, and his legs spread awkwardly, hands each gripping the opposite elbow, ass pressed against Frederick's cock and his head lolling back against Frederick's shoulder.

There's still the smear of blood from the needle mark; it had been too dry to go away from just a lick, apparently. Frederick tongues it, and Ashe presses harder back against Frederick. He keeps his left hand firmly around Ashe's waist, holding him up, and lets his right slide down to cup Ashe's balls, giving them a squeeze before cupping his hand over Ashe's cock, pressing it flat against his belly.

Just the heat and the slight pressure make Ashe shake. He bites his lip, as he did in the interview, but doesn't bite it bloody this time. Hard enough to make it swell up, though, and Frederick doesn't even bother to pretend that he doesn't want to bite it. He does, teeth digging into Ashe's lip as he wraps his fingers around Ashe's shaft. Silky smooth, but not a tight grip yet.

The muscles in Ashe's back shift and jerk against Frederick's chest; he pulls his hand away and spits in it a few times, then wraps his fingers around Ashe's cock once more. He goes with a medium grip and is rewarded with another moan and Ashe's weight settling back entirely against Frederick.

Ashe doesn't say anything, but it looks like he wants to a few times. His brows furrow and he makes a whiny noise, takes a breath, but he just moans instead, hips working up against Frederick's hand.

He knows by now exactly what Ashe wants, and gives it to him: a fast rhythm, fingertips teasing Ashe's slit, brief squeezes of the glans. The speed of his hips matches Frederick's hand, but there's a desperate quality to it, a frantic strain of muscle, and all through it that need, that hopeless need.

"You're gorgeous," Frederick whispers, words short and quick. "Ashe, I can't even—all the things I'd do to you. You're—I want to—I don't even know sometimes, I don't know all the things I want to do with you, can you believe that?"

Ashe's only response is to begin to shake.

"Fuck. Ashe. I need you to come for me. Can you come for me?"

Breathless, barely even a whisper, Ash says, "Yes."

Perfect, Frederick thinks, and tightens his grip. Doesn't change his speed; he knows better than that. He just keeps the tighter grip and Ashe moans like a broken thing, motion of his hips suddenly erratic. Amazing. "Come on, give it to me."

Ashe comes, mouth open though the only sound that comes out at first is a whine. It progresses into a groan as Ashe shoots come so far his semen lands in Frederick's hair, on Ashe's shoulder, on Ashe's stomach, and the last couple shots pour onto Frederick's hand while he milks Ashe's cock.

If Frederick even thought he needed to ask if it was a good orgasm, he guesses this is as much answer as he'd ever need. Even more limp than before, Ashe's entire body shivers with aftershocks; he hisses in breath and groans in a way that says it's unconscious, not on purpose.

Frederick kisses his neck, his cheek, in the quiet aftermath, waiting for Ashe's eyes to flutter open before he presses his messy hand to Ashe's lips. Just as before, Ashe licks it off, humming happily. Frederick may have an oral fixation, or maybe he just has an Ashe fixation. He still wonders about a lot of things that they haven't talked about yet, still burns to know everything there is to know about Ashe.

"I could make you tell me all your secrets like this," Frederick says, without meaning to.

Ashe swallows, hums, and says, "I'll tell you _everything_. Gladly." With just his voice, Frederick wouldn't have believed it. But with the look in Ashe's eyes, the utter devotion and openness, Frederick can't maintain the disbelief. It's impossible.

No one's ever looked at him like this before, and Frederick hopes with a fierce protectiveness that Ashe hasn't looked at anyone like this before. Also, he thinks that he badly misjudged the limits of Ashe's trust.

"Fucking fantastic," Ashe breathes, and shifts, trying to pull forward.

Frederick pulls Ashe back against him with two hands, away from the chair, toward the bedroom. He presses Ashe down against the bed, nips Ashe's chest, lets his thigh press against Ashe's cock, and watches the way that the trust in Ashe's eyes doesn't go away. He's laying on his hands, cuffed behind him, with Frederick pressing him down and causing him pain, causing him to jerk at the over-sensitization on his cock, and there's still nothing but trust and devotion in Ashe's gaze.

"Mine," Frederick says, softly, looking down at Ashe.

Ashe smiles. Dopey drugged smile. "Yours."

And that's all there is to that, Frederick thinks.


End file.
